


At Last

by pensively



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Memories, Old Married Couple, Old Married Spirk Challenge, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 20:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16667986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensively/pseuds/pensively
Summary: As guests at a friend's wedding, Jim and Spock are reminded of their own nuptials.





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Old Married Spirk Challenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/oldmarriedspirk), moderated by [plaidshirtjimkirk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/profile). Thank you so much for running this challenge every year. <3
> 
> Kindly beta'ed by [druxy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy/pseuds/druxykexy) and [WanderingAfar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAfar/pseuds/WanderingAfar).
> 
> The title is taken from the timeless classic, [At Last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5dpYDTEMRU), by Etta James.

Of all the events to which Jim and Spock found themselves invited these days, Jim liked the weddings best, especially when he had a personal connection to the happy lovers as he did today. There was something very moving about watching people in love pledging their lives to one another, and in his opinion it was one of the better reasons to celebrate. It didn't hurt that the food was usually good, too, though he wouldn't mind if he never had another Klingon-inspired buffet again.

He placed his fork down beside the empty synthesized china plate in front of him and patted his belly as he surreptitiously licked the final taste of sugar from his lips. The wedding cake had been delectable. Light, perfectly moist Victoria sponge coated in smooth buttercream frosting had formed an elegant structure of concentric circles crowned with a cascade of gum paste flowers. The tart flavor of the raspberry filling between the airy layers of cake had been the perfect counterpoint to the creamy vanilla icing. 

Though full from the post-ceremony bouquet and the slice of cake he’d just finished, the perfect wedge of wedding cake that sat untouched on the plate next to his looked awfully tempting. Jim glanced at its owner, who was conversing politely with Admiral Spotted Horse. 

_Have my serving of cake if you wish, T’hy’la._

For a moment Jim considered it. His hand had just touched the filigreed rim of Spock’s plate when he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He looked up to find Bones’ piercing gaze fixed on him from all the way across the ballroom. _How does he always know?_

A flicker of mild amusement echoed back across the bond. Jim shook his head ruefully and pulled his hand away. A second serving of cake would be unwise; he didn’t want the Indo-Japanese feast or the cake he’d already enjoyed ruined by a lecture from his irascible, overprotective physician. 

To distract himself, Jim looked up to the dais where an orchestra played an upbeat version of an old Andorian love song. On the dance floor, couples, triads, and quads moved in time with the music, their bright clothing a sea of color against the elegant, understated decor. Risha’s love of color was evident in the glamorous fashions worn by the wedding party and guests. They contrasted beautifully with Demora’s minimalist style, seen in the shades of white, dove grey, and silver that adorned the hall. 

Thousands of holographic fairy lights glowed against the darkened ceiling, creating the illusion that the guests danced beneath twinkling stars. Lifelike replicated versions of exotic blooms from all over the galaxy topped the cloth-draped tables set at intervals throughout the space. It was obvious that Demora had inherited her father’s love of horticulture and her mother’s practical nature. 

The music was all Risha, eclectic and full of energy. The orchestra had arranged a variety of ballads, all re-envisioned in bright, danceable tempos. They ended their song with a flourish, leaving only the soft chatter of voices in the room until the emcee stepped up to the dais. He cleared his throat delicately to draw attention. His voice was amplified by a small device that extended from the curve of his ear to rest against his cheek, and it reached every corner of the large ballroom with ease. 

“Gentlebeings, if you would kindly direct your attention to the dance floor…” 

Spotlights swirled over the floor and converged in the center to illuminate the couple standing there, already clasping each other as a prelude to dance. They made a striking pair; Risha’s delicately embroidered wedding sari was done in shades of red and gold, bright against the soft grey of Demora’s elegantly tailored bridal gown. Both women looked brilliant, glowing with love and happiness in a way that stirred Jim’s heart. 

_Ah, to be young and in love…_ , he thought, letting the feeling rest in his mind where he knew Spock would pick it up. A feeling of warmth came over him, and he knew without looking that his bondmate had indeed received his thoughts and returned them in kind. 

While everyone had been looking at the happy couple, the emcee had vacated his place at the center of the dais to be replaced by Nyota. She looked resplendent in a burgundy off-the-shoulder gown and golden jewelry that caught the light. It made sense that Demora would ask “Auntie Nota” to sing at her wedding, and Jim found himself eagerly anticipating his old colleague’s performance. 

“I am honored,” she began, “both to have been asked to sing for my beautiful nieces on their special day, and to sing this particular selection, _At Last_ , by the incomparable Etta James. It has been hundreds of years, and I have yet to hear a voice quite like hers." 

Nyota paused as the assemblage applauded, then lifted the old-fashioned microphone. “My darlings, Demora and Risha, this is for you.” 

_...At last...my love...has come along…_

Demora and Risha began to sway in time with the music, shifting into a modified version of the waltz that placed neither party in the lead, but rather, required that the dancers remain attuned to each other's movements so they might move together as one. They had eyes only for each other. 

Jim heard a loud sniffle from his left, and turned to see another guest from his table had moved forward to get a better view of the dance. He knew it was someone from Demora’s past...a friend’s grandmother, perhaps? It took a moment for her name to come to mind. 

“Are you all right, Mrs. Birch?” he asked, offering her the handkerchief from his pocket. 

“Oh yes,” she said in a wavery voice, dabbing at her eyes. “It’s just so beautiful to see these young ladies just starting their lives together. I had seventy-five years with my Winston, you know.” 

Jim did not, but he smiled politely. “That’s a long time.” 

“You and the ambassador have been married quite a long time yourselves, haven’t you?” 

“Thirty-five point seven-two years, Madam,” Spock said, joining the conversation smoothly as he came to stand on Jim’s right. Jim subtly pressed his elbow against Spock’s and was rewarded with a slight pressure in return. 

Mrs. Birch gave them a watery smile. “Oh, that’s just lovely. You must have had a beautiful ceremony. Did you do a first dance? Do Vulcans dance, Ambassador Spock?” 

“Vulcan culture does indeed include certain formal dances, but Jim and I did not engage in a ‘First Dance’ of the sort that Lieutenants Sulu and Agarwal are at this time.” 

“We were married in the Vulcan tradition,” Jim added, by way of explanation. 

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Mrs. Birch replied, clearly oblivious to the way her comments might be perceived. “Terran-style ceremonies are ever so nice. They can be difficult to plan, you know. I drove my Winston positively mad trying to choose floral arrangements! ‘Flora’ he said, ‘Flora, what’s one day compared to the lifetime we’ll have together?’ He was such a romantic, my Winston.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes again. “He was right, of course, but my memories of that day are very special.” 

Jim was searching for an appropriately non-committal response when Flora brightened. “I know! You and Ambassador Spock can renew your vows and have a Terran ceremony! That would be just lovely.” 

Jim tensed slightly, but kept a smile pasted on his face. He was about to reply when Spock lifted one eyebrow and beat him to it. “What would be the purpose of renewing that which I have not broken?” 

Mrs. Birch smiled awkwardly, a hint of red blossoming in her pale cheeks. “Oh, yes. Of course...I. Well…” She cleared her throat noisily. “I didn’t mean to imply that you had, Ambassador. I only thought…” She trailed off. “Oh, look! There’s...ah...someone I need to speak to. Over there. Please excuse me.” She bustled off, and Jim let out a little sigh. 

He returned his gaze to the dance floor, where Demora and Risha were nearly finished. He had missed almost all of their first dance as he’d been trapped in the well-meant, but unwanted conversation. Nyota’s singing had no doubt been beautiful, and he hadn’t been able to truly appreciate it. 

“Jim, do you regret that we did not have a Terran ceremony?” 

The heat of Vulcan came to Jim’s mind unbidden. How he had sweated beneath his dress uniform as he’d stood across from Spock in the place of _Koon-ut-kal-if-fee_ , surrounded by Spock’s silent family and the rest of his clan. Only Lady Amanda had smiled at him from beneath her veil. They had been two years into their second five year mission, two years out from V’ger and Spock finally coming to terms with his humanity and his feelings for Jim. 

No emotion had shown on Spock’s face in the place of marriage, however. His lean features had been stony, nearly mask-like as he had put every ounce of his considerable will into controlling the urges of his body. Thanks to the betrothal link, Jim had felt the way Spock _burned_. He had known his bondmate’s fiery passion would consume him the moment they were freed from the constraints of ceremony and tradition, and Jim had been tense with anticipation, so much so that he could barely remember anything other than T’Pau speaking and the ringing of the gong. It had been struck one last time, and then Spock’s normally cool fingers, warmed by the desert heat, had touched Jim’s face. 

Everything after that came in flashes of memory. There had been the cool hiss and sting of a final hypo from Bones, and then the place of marriage or challenge was gone and they were in a tent nearby, outfitted with supplies to last them through Spock’s _Pon Farr_. In the past, Vulcan pairs had taken their passion to the sands of the vast, barren desert, returning only once it had been sated. A tent was considered a more civilized location for such activities, and in this case it was also more suitable for Jim’s human constitution. 

All Jim could remember of his wedding was Spock. Always and only Spock. Over him, in him, his hard, lean body impossibly strong as he’d fucked Jim into the thin sleeping pad again and again. Jim had been overwhelmed by the powerful emotions spilling into his mind as their betrothal link had matured into a full-fledged marriage bond. 

Intellectually, Jim knew he must have used the hydropacks and nourishment pods left for him, because he’d emerged from the tent merely sore and tired, but not dehydrated or otherwise seriously worse for wear. And yet, he could not remember the passage of time. Everything else had faded away and there had been only Spock and their seemingly endless hours of lovemaking. 

A gentle nudge against his elbow roused Jim from his memories, and he looked up into Spock’s dark eyes, an answer on the tip of his tongue. Though years had passed and their bodies had changed, Jim still saw Spock as he had been when they first met, when it had felt as though something electric passed between them the first time they locked eyes. Spock was still his Science Officer, still the Captain he had become after that, and still the one who had been lost to him, then returned in a way Jim had never expected. He was Jim’s soulmate in every sense of the word. What was a Terran ceremony and some dancing to what he and Spock shared? 

“No, Spock,” Jim said at last, a slow smile spreading over his lips. “I don’t regret it at all. We don’t need a fancy ceremony or a first dance or flowers. Not with what we have.” 

Though Spock’s expression remained unchanged, warmth, love, and joy exploded across the bond, nearly overwhelming Jim with its intensity. Jim felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and dashed them away. He felt no shame in crying, but it wouldn’t do to draw attention from Demora and Risha. It was their day. 

He leaned closer to Spock, pitching his voice so that only his husband’s sensitive Vulcan hearing would catch his words. “I wouldn’t say no to revisiting the honeymoon, though.” 

Spock lifted his hand and touched his fingers to Jim’s in a Vulcan kiss. “Nor would I, _adun_.”


End file.
